


The Sound of Hope

by Anendda_Rysden



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crash Landing, Gen, Havarl (Mass Effect), Hopeful Ending, No Romance, Starvation, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 09:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13544751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anendda_Rysden/pseuds/Anendda_Rysden
Summary: They were set adrift 600 years ago, never to return - the hopes and dreams of the doomed riding on their shoulders. Tetriss had accepted that reality, just like everyone else. She'd expected difficulty and death. She hadn't expected a nightmare, nor how sweetly an unexpected rescue would taste long after she'd given up hope.





	The Sound of Hope

**– Log Entry 2-2104 –**

600 hundred years across the universe, only to wake up to this.

As of yet, we have no idea what happen to the Ark _Natanus_. The scattered fragments of data we do have suggest it ran into some sort of space anomaly, a mass of dark energy that rendered many of its systems inoperable. It must have had a physical presence, too. How else can we explain our own predicament? Something have have holed the hull of the _Natanus_ , spilling an entire colony block into space. Dr. Styx tells us that we must have floated in vacuum for a time before falling into the gravity well of the planet.

Apparently, those cryopods are built tougher than they look.

Our first priority is to set up camp and explore the area.

 

* * *

 

**– Log Entry 2-2111 –**

The planet was alien and beautiful, a world of lush, bioluminescent jungles and cool rain, but we soon discovered the lie of it. The flora here is just _wrong_. I can’t explain it. The vines can grow meters a day and wind into your bed if you’re not careful. There’s also an abudance of glowing basidiomycetous fungi that cause painful, blistering rashes and hallucinations if the spores come in contact with skin.

If that weren’t nightmare enough, there are the animals to content with, the four-legged beasts that can camouflage themselves with an almost perfect cloaking field. Vicious and extremely territorial, they are rarely found in packs of less than four. We lost three of our number yesterday while on reconnaissance, (see list of attached names.)

All around are massive, towering structures. They remind me of the Promethean ruins back home, although the Promethean's never built anything quite this grand. Constructed of an unknown alloy, they are guarded round the clock by mechanical sentinels, both bipedal and those with the ability to hover. I saw one of their beam weapons sheer through a fully charged shield and still have enough energy left to melt Chaix’s hardsuit to his carapace.

Avitus Rix, our resident ex-Spectre and temporary Pathfinder, has ordered that we avoid those areas for the time being.

 

* * *

 

**– Log Entry 2-2117 –**

This morning we were attacked by a group of hostile aliens armed with beam weaponry. Though our translators were working, they weren’t interested in peaceable talks. Once the first shot was fired, we immediately wiped out the entire garrison – _NOTE: We have seen no evidence of kinetic barrier technology_ – and appropriated their weapons and gear. See attached report for physical descriptions.

 

* * *

 

**– Log Entry 9-2182 –**

We have pieced together a working comm array, but there is no response, neither from the _Natanus_ nor from any of the other Arks. Rix insists that since the custody of our Ark’s SAM A.I. has not been passed to him, this indicates that our Pathfinder is still alive, but some of us are starting to fear the worst.

We have been here for nearly seven months and our limited supplies are beginning to stretch thin. Attacks from the hostile alien group come almost daily, and it is an ongoing struggle to keep the plants from destroying what little equipment we have managed to salvage.

Illness and disease are beginning to crop up, many of them new to us. The luminescent algae in the local water seems to cause acute respiratory distress if inhaled or ingested without proper filtration. There are also weekly cases of fungal rot and gastrointestinal issues. Dr. Codix is working day and night trying to find answers. Our immune systems, already weakened by so long in cryo, are not used to this planet. That and the lack of proper medicine is making treatment difficult.

We came to Andromeda expecting a new life, a new home.

No one expected it to be easy, but this is starting to border on a cruel joke. I pray the other Arks are having better luck then us.

 

* * *

 

**– Log Entry 15-2249 –**

Codix, Dr. Lenis – Deceased

Flavan, Tenax – Deceased

Flavan, Natari – Deceased

Flox, Corona – Deceased

Kachi, Amara – Deceased

Leto, Drell – Desceased

Osvet, Maxim – Deceased

Talbet, Aetas – Deceased

Vos, Jeran – Deceased

Yalen, Vestus – Deceased

_[Tap to expand list, 14 entries remaining]_

 

* * *

 

Tetriss finished her log report, the grim task of cataloging their dead. Almost half their number had perished since coming to this spirit-forsaken world and another quarter were wracked with illness, though they bravely continued to struggle through their day to day lives. The gnawing pain of hunger had become a constant companion for all.

Tetriss couldn’t remember the last time her belly had been full. The tubes of nutripaste had ran out months ago and they’d been forced to substitute the local game into their diets – and to live with the stomachaches. Many were full of poison or maladaptive mutations, and even the ones that were edible were unpalatable and bitter. But with nearly thirty mouths to feed on a daily basis, the local fauna had gone into swift decline, forcing their scouts to range further and further in search of game, closer to the deadly, machine-guarded ruins. They often came back empty-handed, or with less men then they'd left with. Sometimes both.

Starvation ate at the brain, made even the most rational being do irrational things. Last week, several of their party had eaten one of the deadly, glowing mushrooms that lurked in the jungle, shoveling the luminous, meaty flesh into their mouths even knowing it was full of toxins. Barrae had died within hours. His sister had been lying in medical for days, wracked with convulsions and bloody stool.

Tetriss swallowed and thumbed her datapad. The cool rain, once gentle and refreshing, had become a constant source of misery. It dripped from everything, a ceaseless drizzle down the back of her hardsuit, and made it impossible to keep anything dry, whether clothing or bedding or equipment. Fire was impossible, so they made do with the heat of solar lamps that’d scavenged from the alien raiders. They were happy to have them, as any comfort, no matter how small, was welcome.

A familiar burst of energy went through the camp, the sound of it muffled by the rain and dense foliage. Shouts went up, weapons were grabbed. Tetriss seized the rifle which was never far from her side and sprinted across camp, sliding through the mud to a position behind a barricade. Their limited supply of weapons from the Milky Way had run dry long ago, either in the form of ammunition or heat sinks, rendering most inoperable. They’d been forced to appropriate the weapons of the enemy instead.

Tetriss aimed over the barricade, sighted one in, and put a hole through its skull; at this distance, it was impossible to accurately tell male apart from female. Not for the first time, she wondered why the raiders were so determined to see them dead. Yes, they were alien intruders to this planet, but not by choice, and their attempts to negotiate or broker peace had been met with open hostility. First contact in Andromeda had been an absolute bust.

The rain pattered on Tetriss’ exposed head and ran into her eyes, steaming on the super-heated barrel of her rifle. She heard Avitus Rix shouting orders, calling out enemy positions. Another streak of plasma knifed through the trees, striking Kazan in the shoulder. His shields burst and the grizzled old turian dropped low in the mud to wait for recharge. A grenade arced high overhead and detonated in a nearby puddle, hurling mud and soggy splinters of wood into the night sky.

A shot grooved Tetriss’ shield, depleting it by at least half. Cursing, she squeezed the trigger on the nearest raider, missed him by inches, and hit the tree he was standing next to instead. Still, it had the intended effect. The cerulean-skinned alien swiveled behind the trunk and out of sight, giving Tetriss a moment of breathing room. A mass effect field boiled into existence about forty or fifty meters to her right, and one of the aliens let out a terrible shriek as his nervous system ignited in electrical fire. For a while, Tetriss had noticed that fear of their biotics had kept their attackers at bay – but those nights were long gone. When the field dissipated, two more raiders leapt in to fill the gap. Another grenade bounced into camp and exploded, shattering two of the solar lamps and peppering Tetriss’ shield with flying shrapnel.

She wondered, as she did every day, if it was her time to die. Just as the familiar thought crossed her mind, however, another sound abruptly split the jungle, harsh and impossibly loud, the unmistakable _crack_ of a kinetic round fired from a large caliber mass effect weapon. Tetriss knew the sound; it belonged to an M-98 Widow sniper rifle, viciously powerful at any range, and capable of punching a hole through the side of a tank. Back in the Milky Way, only a krogan or an especially ballsy individual with a shit-ton of actuators and hardsuit modifiers could handle the weapon, making it the exclusive purview of Spectres and other government spooks.

Tetriss felt something tightening in her throat, rising from her empty stomach. No one in their camp possessed a Widow rifle, not even Rix. It could only mean one thing.

Someone from the Arks had finally found them.

The alien raiders began to break cover, confused by the attack coming from their rear. Another thunderous _crack_ ripped through the jungle, followed by another in quick succession. Down the slope, Tetriss watched the skull of one of the raiders explode in a fountain of sapphire blood. A cloud of mass effect particles sparkled through the moist foliage and lifted another high into the air before accelerating him into a tree with the force of a small shuttle. The scuffle was over in less than a few minutes.

Tetriss stood on shaky legs, wondered if she’d finally succumbed to starvation and was in the last, fevered dreams of life. A figure in a hardsuit, though it were of no design Tetriss was familiar with, emerged from the dripping foliage. Obviously human and male, he was accompanied by a short asari dressed in casual leathers and a very large, very armored krogan adorned with bone and bits of ribcage. Never so happy to see such familiar species, Tetriss felt faint.

“I’m Ryder, the human Pathfinder,” the human called out.

Avitus Rix quickly walked up to greet the newcomers, slinging his assault rifle as he went. The ex-Spectre was tough, but even Tetriss could see how relieved he was. She watched as the human reached up to depressurize his helmet, revealing a head of dark hair and two pale, crystalline blue eyes which surveyed the camp with open concern, unperturbed by the rain pattering on his skin.

“We heard there were turian survivors here,” he said. “We came to take you to the Nexus.”

Tetriss heard very little after that. She sat down on a crate, reeling. After over a year, they were finally getting off this planet. They were finally going home. In the years that followed, she was never able to hear the sound of a Widow and think of battle, of military action, strategy and death. All she was able to think of was hope.

**Author's Note:**

> The above drabble popped into my head when I met the turian survivors on Havarl. The planet had a lavishly RICH atmosphere and a mood that was just begging to be explored, so I wrote this in a spastic fit of inspiration.


End file.
